Poker Face
by piloqutinnguaq
Summary: "You're very pretty, Selina. Young and beautiful. It would be such a pity to ruin a face like that." His eyes were burning, tumultuous, collapsing suns. His left hand appeared again, out of his coat, twirling a menacing knife like a pencil. "But, that's never stopped me before."


The police sirens spread out through the night, echoing in thin alleys and scattering the denizens of the Narrows. Selina knew something was wrong when those pulsating red and blue lights ripped her out of her dreams and dumped her into Miss Borrow's second-hand couch. The police did not come into the Narrows. And when they did, they never announced they were there. People who grew up poor knew not to trust Gotham police. The only people who could place their trust in an officer were the ones who could afford to buy him.

"Selina!"

She rolled off the couch, landing on all fours with as much grace as her bruised knee would allow. It hurt, but it was motivation. Next time the mob's men were not going to catch her stealing from their masters. They were not going to get in a good shot on her leg before she slipped back into the night, into the Narrows where no one would follow.

She always promised herself she was going to stop anyway. Once she paid the protection money, she would stop. Once she paid back what her mother owed, she would stop. Once she provided for her sister, she would stop. She would stop associating with the underbelly of Gotham, stop running deals no questions asked. Stop stealing and lying and maybe even go back to school. She had started to realize around fifteen that she would never be able to stop, unless she managed to escape, to crawl out of the quicksand Gotham was sinking in.

"Selina!"

A pair of wide, blue eyes looked up at her carefully, tentative but not afraid. Not yet. That was why she couldn't stop. Even if she could escape, she wouldn't be able to save her sister. She wouldn't be able to live knowing her baby would be trapped in the Narrows, doomed to rot away slowly. She had to protect her sister from the life she had fallen into, too quickly, too young.

"Come here, baby," she said, holding out both arms for the little girl. She cradled her like a doll, running a hand through blonde tangles and humming something familiar softly in her ear.

"Why are they here?"

"I don't know," Selina replied honestly. "They must be looking for someone." _Someone terrible enough to lure them out here. _

There was a scream from somewhere near and Selina felt her sister cling on harder. There was another and it was too close. And then in the space between the sirens, there was nothing. Selina felt dread creeping across her skin. She looked down at the tiny frail body in her arms; she stood straight up, her sister's feet swinging around her knees.

"I'm going to go check on Mrs. Burrows and then we're going to go somewhere safe," Selina said. She knew that even the six year old in her arms could tell her words were hollow. Nowhere they could go would be safe. She let her down gently. "Stay here and stay _silent_ until I come back." Her sister looked up at her with those watery blue eyes and scampered off into the bedroom.

Selina moved like she would on a job, like a panther in the jungle. Powerful and silent, but cautious. She pressed on the door to the hallway softly and it swung open too easily. The first thing she noticed was that it smelled like death.

Something that she supposed used to be Mrs. Burrows only ten or fifteen minutes before was lying slumped against the hall. A shapeless blue dress and chunks of greying blonde hair were her only clues to the body's identity, since the face looked like it had been run through a wood chipper. Half of it was splattered across the wall and Selina had no desire to find the other half. She thought she heard laughter, a scampering, sliding noise, but she didn't want to investigate any further.

Selina turned and ran into the apartment, feet pounding, heart thundering, hands shuddering. She made no attempt to lock the door behind her. She couldn't stop. Her sister was pressed into the corner of the bedroom, as small as a human being could be. She was petrified. Selina wished she could have protected her better, given her a life where she wouldn't have to bear witness to the evil in the world. Willing her hands to be steady she grabbed hold of the little girl. There was no time for comforting words.

"Listen to me carefully," Selina whispered. "I am going to put you out onto the fire escape. You're going to be very, very quiet. You're going to go down two stories and go through Mr. Li's back window, the little one he never locks. You're going to find their linen closet, you're going to crawl into the blankets, close the door, and stay in that closet until I come get you or the Li's find you. Do you understand, baby?"

Her sister let out a little noise. Selina attached her at the hip with one strong arm. "Close your eyes." She wrapped her arm in a spare sweater and with two swift strokes broke the tiny bedroom window. It was too small for an adult, even for someone as flexible as Selina, but her sister would fit. She lifted up the little girl as if she was offering her to the night.

Her sister stared back at her through the hole in the wall, her face barely visible in the dark. "Selina," her little voice wavered, "Why aren't you coming?"

"I won't fit, baby," she said. She didn't try to smile. "I'll come for you. I promise."

As the little girl disappeared down the fire escape, Selina wondered if she would be able to keep her word. If she didn't it would be the first and last time she ever lied to her baby. She shoved a pillow in the remains of the window to hide the escape as best she could. There was that terrible silence again between the sirens. And then, there was a crashing, only a wall or two away from her.

Selina knew she was cornered and she didn't like it. There was only one way out. As she started to slide out into the hallway, hoping the darkness would cloak her, it occurred to her that she was walking into a small room with one door that probably contained a psychotic murderer. She was feeling strangely calm.

There was a man in stage make-up standing in her living room, gulping down orange juice from the carton from her fridge. He was wearing a filthy purple over-coat and his hair was an unnatural colour, like it was dipped in oil. She pressed herself as far into the corner as she could, willing herself to be invisible. She only made it a quarter of the way to the door before he spoke to her.

"A-ta-ta! Not very smart trying to sneak past me," he said. His white, ghostly face was glowing but his eyes were vacuous black holes that drew light and devoured it, leaving only nothingness. Selina's eyes were fixed on his red, painted smile, stretching up the sides of his face. There was something _wrong _about the skin underneath, but the paint and the dark made it hard to tell.

Selina froze, foot barely arched into the beginnings of her next step towards freedom. She wished she had socks or shoes or something between her skin and the floor. It was cold for October in Gotham. "I'm sorry," she said. Her voice didn't sound like her own.

"Ha, ah-HA, I don't think you are. But you will be."

When he stepped closer, the police lights illuminated the room for a split second, and she knew Mrs. Burrow's blood was one of many stains on his ugly purple coat. He looked even more ghastly in the blue and red oscillations.

Selina may not have looked it, but she was panicking in a way she never had before. She had met a lot of murders, her own hands had some blood on them, but she had never seen anything like the corpse of Mrs. Burrows. In any other situation, with any other man, she would have had utter confidence in her ability to talk her way out. After all, she was beautiful, with her long dark hair, her wide green eyes, all pale and pink and pretty lines.

"I could make it up to you," she said. She tried to make her voice drop into something sultrier, but it still sounded like it belonged to a little girl who just woke up from a nightmare. Selina really wished she could wake up.

"Oh, you could," he snapped. "But I don't think you'd _like_ it."

Selina was not a short girl, but the man seemed to tower over her, throwing over cast shadows on the wall like the Minotaur in the maze. She made herself leap for the door. Her eyes must have betrayed her intentions because the man caught her easily, one cruel hand in her hair and the other suspiciously still in his coat pocket.

"I guess we can keep pretending that I want to fuck you like an animal and that you have something to gain by letting me do it," he snarled. Then his voice changed again, slithering around the words. "Or we could start playing some _real _games."

Selina ripped her eyes away from his face and glanced up at the curtains. She could reach them if she moved quickly enough. There was no other way she could get out of the apartment in one piece. She took a step back and with two hands grasped the brown cotton curtains, swinging her whole body against the window.

It shattered like a dollar store mirror.

The night was cold and damp and it swallowed her as she fell, tumbling into the alley below the apartment building. She caught the fire escape with one hand and her shoulder popped, but she landed on her feet after five stories. The pain was the price of escape. It let her know that she was still alive. It was suffocating dark, but Selina didn't mind. The shadows would be her salvation. She would hide in them, behind them, until dawn broke, and then she would go back for her sister. She had kept her promise.

Just as she reached the end of the alley, the police lights passed by again, and she caught a glimpse of a ghoulish face and gloved hands in the darkness, flashing red and blue. Her heart stopped.

"Well, I have to say, you surprised me," he said. "No one has quite got-uh, the drop, on me before." His face wretched open into a grin and he began laughing maniacally. Then his humour evaporated, faster than she could blink, and he was towering over her again, her face caught in a gloved hand, crushing her lips onto her teeth.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged. She could feel the searing pain in her shoulder suddenly.

"Do you want me to hurt you?"

He surprised her for a second time. The question filled up the space around her and there was no air to breathe any more.

"_Do you want me to hurt you_?" he roared, eyes shimmering red and blue for a second again. It didn't seem to faze him. Selina wanted nothing more than to be able to kill him; to have the power, to hold it over him like a queen, to gloat the way he was gloating.

"No," she said evenly, hissing in pain when he threw her down like she was too hot to touch. Her shoulder skidded on the gravel and she bit down on her tongue so hard she could taste blood in her mouth.

"If you want something," he growled, "You have to _take_ it. If you _can't_ take it, then you don't want it bad _enough_."

She didn't say anything. His expression lilted up into something that might have looked happy on a real person, but his eyes were unchangeable black holes. It was a sad imitation of humanity. It was what Selina imagined Satan would look like if he smiled. "So, you _see_, the whole world is your oyster," he said, his voice returning to a drawl. It was like oil gliding over water; an illusory layer, a curtain that reality could only be glimpsed through. "Everything you could ever want— can— be— _yours_!"

"You killed Miss Borrows," she said. It was barely a whisper and totally involuntary and it sounded like a question and an assurance at the same time.

He left out a small wheezing laugh. "Like I said. You've got to take it. And when people get in your way, you show them NO MERCY. People are animals and animals don't feel _mercy_. You kick them out of your way like a stray dog."

Selina reminded herself that he was mad.

"Oh, ha, ha, HA! I know what you're thinking. You think I'm CRAZY. Well I'm not- not crazy. Not _yet_." His face flashed again, twisted in rage, and he really did look like the devil. Selina tried not to move, or breathe, or do anything to incite his anger. The wise little voice in the back of her mind told her that wouldn't matter, because he didn't need a reason to murder her.

"What's your name, again?"

"Selina," she squeaked. She immediately regretted telling him. He made an attempt to smile again, one hand playing with something in his coat pocket, the other fidgeting in the night air. There was a hole in his glove.

"Selina," he said slowly. "You're very pretty, Selina. Young and _beautiful_. It would be such a pity to ruin a face like _that_." His eyes were burning, tumultuous, collapsing suns. His left hand appeared again, out of his coat, twirling a menacing knife like a pencil. "But, that's never stopped me before."

"Please," she whispered. The words tumbled out of her mouth. "Please don't."

"Now, Selina. I just told you something important. Don't you remember? The world doesn't give things to the people that _ask_ for them. You've got to _take_ it." He laughed, longer and slower and louder than before. Selina had been plenty afraid of men in her short life; they had abandoned her, beat her, violated her, left her to die; they had taken her money, her dignity, and the childhood—the life—that she could have had. She had promised herself she was not afraid of men any more. She was angry.

When he threw her up against the wall, knife slipping dangerously close to her face, Selina realized that this was not a man. She steeled herself, her face practiced and calm.

"What's the difference between you and every other girl in this filthy pit of a city, huh? If you don't want me to-uh- carve up, that _beautiful _face, cut you into little pieces, and leave you in the sewer, why don't _you make me_?"

Selina realized this was not a man. He was a monster. He was evil. He was going to cut her up and he was going to get off on it, watching her bleed into death in an alley in the middle of the night. Selina realized she was not ready to die. She was not going to be another anonymous body in the Narrows, a little box of ashes in the basement of the GPD.

Satan used to be an angel. Did that mean that the thing above her used to be a man?

Her cold face shattered for a moment and she reached up as fast as she could and snapped his left hand back, nearly breaking his wrist, wrenching the knife out of his grip and letting it fly out into the depths of the alley. She expected him to beat her to death with his bare hands. She pressed herself against the sharp corners of the brick wall, trying to sink into the night, trying to escape.

He started laughing. Selina wasn't sure if that was for better or worse.

"You know what," he said, a wry, impish grin on his face. "I like you. You're not just a pretty face, you—you've got some fight. I _like_ that."

Her breath was coming out in ragged sobs and Selina couldn't think of anything to say. She slid down the wall and curled up, her pants feeling tight around her knees, dark hair spilling out onto her face. She felt him crouch down beside her, head turned like a dog, hot and even and giddy.

"Well. I think we've learned something important tonight, Selina," he said, his drawl slipping into something low and ugly again. "I'll be seeing you around. Oh—and, better work on that _poker face_."

He vanished into the night, laughing at his own joke, until she couldn't hear him anymore.


End file.
